


Bring A Wild Man Back Home

by anodyneer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, Frottage, Future Fic, Hellhound Jordan Parrish, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Post-Canon, Rare Pairings, Running, SWSWeek2017, Sex in the Preserve, Stiles Stilinski is Part of the Hale Pack, starrish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-15 22:50:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10559018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anodyneer/pseuds/anodyneer
Summary: When Stiles finally returns to visit Beacon Hills eight years after he left for college, a lot has changed in his life - he has a master's degree, he's an FBI agent, he's in great shape, and he's part of Derek's pack. He'd been dreading coming back to the place he once called home, but an encounter with Jordan Parrish in the preserve makes it more than worth it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For [Shipping With Stiles Week 2017](https://shippingwithstiles.tumblr.com/post/157401736845/welcome-to-shipping-with-stiles-week-2017-as-a).
> 
> When it comes to reading and writing fic, I'm mostly a Sterek monoshipper, but for some reason, the idea of Stiles and Parrish together got into my head and wouldn't leave me alone. There really isn't much of a plot here, but there are two gorgeous guys and some smut and some Stiles future headcanon.
> 
> Canon-compliant through 6A, since 6B obviously hasn't aired yet. (Also, fair warning: this is not a character-bashing fic by any means, but there is a vague implication made by Stiles that Scott doesn't deserve to be a true alpha. Just putting it out there.)
> 
> Title is from "Hot Stuff" by Donna Summer, because it seemed appropriate. ;)

Stiles ran through the preserve, losing himself in the peacefulness of the early morning and the steady rhythm of his shoes pounding in the dirt. He was alone, on a seldom-used trail that was closed to the general public (and far away from the nemeton), and the weather couldn’t have been better. A smile flirted with the corners of his mouth as he thought back to his high school days, when he could barely run laps at lacrosse practice without upchucking or passing out. Oh, how he’d changed.

Without the same distractions that had plagued him through high school, Stiles had managed to get his bachelor's in computer science in three years, then stayed at GWU for another three years to get a master's in digital forensics.

Knowing he’d need to pass the FBI physical fitness test, but with no experience in any of the university’s D1 sports, Stiles had opted for club lacrosse and Brazilian jiu-jitsu instead, and he’d flirted his way through enough personal training sessions at the gym to learn what he needed to get fit. By the time he was ready to apply to the FBI, Stiles had been in the best shape of his life.

That, along with his impressive grades, his analytical mind, and the tentative affiliation he’d managed to forge with Scott’s dad, had helped Stiles make it through the FBI’s rigorous application and testing process. It had been rough, but he’d succeeded. Any time he’d even remotely considered giving up, Stiles had resorted to the memory of his dad openly weeping when Stiles had gotten his master's, hugging him fiercely, barely able to choke out an _I’m so proud of you_.

He’d managed to mostly avoid Beacon Hills while he was in college and at the academy. It felt good to get away, to start a new life somewhere else, in a place where he wasn’t haunted by the ghosts of high school past. He’d even gotten in touch with Derek, who’d given him the number of a supernatural-savvy therapist in Rosslyn. She’d practically worked miracles for Stiles, mentally preparing him for college and beyond, and had never asked for payment. (A few years later, Derek had admitted what Stiles always suspected - that he’d covered the cost of Stiles’ sessions.)

After being assigned to the San Francisco field office, though, Stiles had run out of excuses for avoiding Beacon Hills. His work with the cyber division kept him busy, as did getting himself set up in his new apartment and getting acquainted with the city, but he could only put off the visit for so long. He made his dad promise not to tell anyone he was coming back. He wanted to ease into it, see people from his past on his own terms.

It wasn’t that he was avoiding anyone, except that he was. He didn’t particularly want to see Scott or anyone else from the McCall pack, though he knew it would have to happen at some point. Scott would smell Derek on him. Okay, and Isaac. And Jackson and Cora. Then he’d have to admit that after reconnecting with Derek, they’d become close during Stiles’ early college years. The two of them had been able to persuade the rest of Derek’s ragtag pack to return from around the globe, and they’d solidified the bond that they should’ve had in the first place.

The five of them had lived together in DC for as long as Stiles was there, and then when Stiles got his post-Quantico assignment, they’d made the cross-country trek together. They lived in the same building (which Derek bought, because Derek), but in separate apartments, in Sausalito. After all, though both of them had matured, there was still no way Stiles would be able to share a place with Jackson. He shuddered at the thought, but couldn’t help grinning about how far all of them had come.

He was almost back to the parking area when he felt that familiar tingle at the nape of his neck, the one that developed during full moon outings with the rest of the Hale pack, the one that told him he was no longer alone in the woods. Stiles fought the instinctive urge to look back over his shoulder, not wanting to give in to the underlying paranoia that came with being back in the preserve. He wasn’t that kid anymore.

He struggled to keep his pace steady, having to remind himself that he wasn’t fleeing from anyone, and it wasn’t long until he started to hear footfalls behind him. By the time he could see his Jeep - a newer Wrangler he’d bought after arriving on the west coast - up ahead, the person behind him had almost caught up to him.

“Stiles?”

Stiles knew that voice. It was one he hadn’t heard in quite a few years, but he’d recognize it anywhere. He pulled up, slowing to a jog to let the other man catch up to him as they approached the parking area.

“Oh my god, it _is_ you!”

With a nod, Stiles dropped back to a walk and glanced over at a stunned Jordan Parrish.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said as he started to pace the length of the parking area, letting his muscles cool down as he caught his breath. Beside him, Parrish did the same.

“I - I didn’t know you were back. The sheriff didn’t say anything.” Parrish barely sounded winded.

“I asked him not to tell anyone,” Stiles admitted. He turned and started back toward the end of the trail, not necessarily wanting to elaborate. Thankfully, Parrish was a quick study.

“I get it,” he said softly, still keeping pace with Stiles. “You want to do it on your own terms. I won’t say anything to anyone.” Stiles heard the unspoken promise in those words. _I won’t tell Scott._ He turned to find Parrish watching him as they walked, a look of sincerity on his face.

“Thanks, Parrish. I appreciate that.”

“It’s Jordan,” he replied with an easy smile. “We’re off the clock, and we’ve definitely known each other long enough to be on a first name basis.”

Stiles relaxed a little and offered a grin of his own. “Yeah, we have, haven’t we?” He turned again, this time to walk over to the far side of the parking area, where a shiny orange Tacoma sat next to his Wrangler. Stiles snorted as he grabbed a towel from his Jeep. “Nice truck. What do they call that shade of orange?”

Jordan let out a laugh, opening the passenger door to pull out a towel of his own, as well as a bottle of water and what looked like a light blanket. “Inferno.”

“Seriously?” Stiles huffed as he ran the towel over his face and neck.

“I swear. Drove by the dealership every damn day for four months with that thing calling to me before I finally caved and bought it.”

“It was meant to be, man.” Stiles reached back into the Jeep for his water bottle. He took a long pull from it before resting it against his cheek. The condensation felt heavenly against his overheated skin.

“I’m going to stretch out a little.” Jordan held up the blanket. “You’re welcome to join me.”

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles agreed. He followed Jordan back across the end of the trail to a small, flat clearing under the trees. Jordan shook out the blanket and spread it out before sitting down near the edge to take off his socks and shoes. Stiles followed suit, and he couldn’t help giving Jordan a once-over as they got situated at opposite sides of the blanket.

The years had definitely been kind to Jordan Parrish, who was probably about 34 years old, if Stiles was doing the math right. He looked a little more rugged than he had when Stiles left, with a few more laugh lines around his eyes, a forehead that was a bit higher, and some hints of silver in his morning stubble. Like Stiles, he was wearing mid-length running shorts and a tank top, and it was obvious he still worked out regularly.

Back in high school, Stiles hadn’t really thought of Jordan as anything other than his dad’s young deputy-turned-hellhound. And there was the whole thing with the Dread Doctors and the Wild Hunt and Stiles fucking vanishing. By the time it was all over, he wasn't thinking of anything outside of surviving and getting the hell out of Beacon Hills. 

College had changed Stiles, though. He’d explored his bisexuality, he’d become more confident in himself, and he’d come to discover that he had a “type” when it came to men - well-built, reasonably muscular, great smile, someone who could be both beautiful and ruggedly handsome at the same time. And damn, but this older version of Jordan Parrish was hitting all of those buttons, _hard_.

“What?” Jordan asked as he spread his legs and started stretching, giving Stiles a knowing smirk.

And well, Stiles definitely wasn’t looking for a relationship in Beacon Hills, not by any means. Still, he wasn’t going to shy away from some flirting, especially when it looked like Jordan was more than okay with the attention.

“You look good.” Stiles held the eye contact and mirrored Jordan’s stretches.

“So do you. All that time away, and the training you put in...it looks good on you.” He smiled, and Stiles returned it.

As they cycled through various stretches, they fell into an easy conversation about Stiles’ training, both in college and at Quantico.

“I really haven’t had to use the defensive tactics outside of training,” Stiles said as they finished up. He reached for his water bottle and took a long drink. “I mean, I’m cyber, so most of my work is online.”

“You don’t look like you sit at a desk all day.” And okay, flirty Jordan was back. Stiles wiped some water from his upper lip with his thumb, and Jordan’s eyes followed the movement.

“I stay in shape. Still have standard physical evals.” He paused, debating with himself about how much to reveal. “And I have to keep up with the rest of the pack.”

To Stiles’ surprise, Jordan just nodded. “Derek’s pack.”

“How’d you know that?” The sheriff knew, but Stiles doubted he’d shared the information with anyone else.

“Derek and I have a mutual friend.” Jordan shifted so he was sitting closer to Stiles, pulling his knees up. “He put me in touch with someone who could help me with my control. I - I learned a lot about who I was and what I could do. Sharpened my skills.”

Stiles gaped at him, stunned. Derek hadn’t said a word to him about being in touch with anyone from Beacon Hills. 

Jordan gave him a sheepish shrug, answering Stiles’ unspoken question. “I didn’t want him to tell anyone. I just - it took a long time for me to be okay with what I was. A _really_ long time.” He glanced away, and Stiles got the feeling Jordan still wasn’t completely comfortable sharing his skin with a hellhound.

“You’ll get there,” Stiles said softly, nudging Jordan’s bare foot with his own. “It took me awhile to get over...everything.” _The Nogitsune. The Dread Doctors. The Wild Hunt._ “Derek helped me find someone, too. I mean, it’s not like you can just Google shrinks who know about the supernatural.”

Jordan huffed out a laugh. “And you ended up joining his pack.” When Stiles nodded, Jordan cocked his head at him. “I didn’t think he was an alpha anymore.”

“He wasn’t, or at least not the last time you saw him. It happened in South America.” Jordan’s eyes got a little wider, and Stiles hurried to clarify. “He didn’t have to kill another alpha or anything. He won’t tell anyone the whole story, but it had something to do with evolving and with the fact that he’d given up his alpha spark to save Cora’s life. I guess it was kind of like the true alpha thing, but…” He trailed off, trying to find a way to explain without mentioning Scott. “You know, for someone who actually deserved it.”

Jordan nodded. “He made a sacrifice worthy of a true alpha.”

“Exactly. And once the pack elders helped him work through everything from the past, he actually wanted to be an alpha again. He wanted to take responsibility for the people he’d turned, and for Cora.”

“And you.” 

“And me.”

Thankfully, Jordan didn’t ask why Stiles was in Derek’s pack instead of Scott’s. He did ask about the pack, about how Derek and Isaac were doing, and about the two members he didn’t know - Cora and Jackson. Stiles told him about their move back to California and how they were settling in before following it up with the Cliffs Notes versions of Cora’s and Jackson’s stories. Jordan remembered learning about the kanima when he was trying to find out what he was, but he didn’t really know anything about Jackson.

“So it was Lydia’s love that brought him back to himself?” 

“It was.” Stiles sighed, absently rubbing his thumb over the seam of his shorts. “I mean, compared to Jackson, you and I were just blips on Lydia’s radar.”

Jordan leaned into Stiles’ space, bumping their shoulders together. “So, was I ever a blip on _your_ radar back then?”

Stiles considered the question a moment before shaking his head. “Gotta be honest, man. There was way too much shit going on in those days for me to even think about exploring the idea that I was bi. I didn’t even realize that was a thing until right before you showed up.”

Jordan gave him a long look, one corner of his mouth curled up in a small smile. “But you _have_ explored it since then?”

“Oh, thoroughly,” Stiles said with a laugh. Jordan grinned back at him, and something in Stiles’ stomach clenched. He leaned a little closer, gaze still locked with Jordan’s. “So, since we’re asking...was I on your radar?”

“No,” Jordan answered, a little too quickly. At Stiles’ disbelieving look, Jordan shook his head. “Oh, come on! You were the underage son of my _boss_ , who, oh by the way, was also the county sheriff.”

“Jordan.” Stiles fixed him with a pointed stare.

“What?”

“Jordan.”

“Shit.” Jordan ran a hand through his hair, still a little sweat damp. “Okay, I thought you were, uh, cute. You had - _have_ \- the most beautiful eyes. But you weren’t even out of high school.”

“Neither was Lydia.”

“Asshole,” Jordan laughed, giving Stiles a playful shove, and yeah, that was definitely a move if Stiles ever saw one. He leaned back into Jordan’s space.

“You know...I haven’t been underage in a really long time.”

Jordan’s eyes raked slowly up and down Stiles’ body, and his gaze darkened. “I can see that.” He hooked two fingers in the front of Stiles’ tank top and reeled him in slowly, giving him plenty of time to pull away. Stiles pushed forward instead, closing the distance. The kiss was amazing, better than he expected, slow and deep and hungry, and he got lost in it. Lost in the feeling of Jordan’s hand slipping around to the back of his neck and the tongue pushing into his mouth.

One of his own hands went to Jordan’s hip and rolled him just far enough so Stiles could lean over him. Jordan groaned into his mouth and hooked a leg over one of Stiles’ to pull them even closer together. And yeah, if the manhandling wasn’t enough to get Stiles hard, the nudge of Jordan’s own half-hard cock against his thigh definitely did the trick.

“Oh, fuck,” Stiles breathed when they finally came up for air. Jordan was panting a little harder than he should have been, his head down, forehead nearly resting on Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles brought a hand up to cup the back of Jordan’s neck, scratching lightly over the damp hair at his nape. “Hey, you okay?”

Jordan nodded and rolled his hips just enough to be convincing. He lifted his head and brought Stiles in for another kiss, shifting to line up their erections. Stiles moaned and thrust against him. He slipped a hand under Jordan’s shirt, only to find his skin feverishly hot. It startled him enough to pull away from Jordan’s mouth, and Jordan’s hips stuttered to a stop under his.

“Jordan,” Stiles started, breathing hard, “not that I want to stop, because I _really_ don’t, but I have to ask…” He trailed off, letting the unspoken question hang in the heated air between them.

Jordan finally looked up at him, a bit of apprehension mixing with the desire in his green eyes. “I haven’t - not since before Afghanistan.”

Stiles gaped at him, even as his fingers glided over Jordan’s stomach in what he hoped was a comforting rhythm. “Really?”

“When I got back, I was just adjusting to being out of the Army. Then I got the job and moved here, and you know the rest.” He dropped a kiss at the corner of Stiles’ mouth. “I’m not sure what might happen, and I didn’t want to take a chance with someone who doesn’t know what I am.”

Stiles pulled him in for another kiss, the hand that was on Jordan’s stomach slipping between them to palm Jordan’s cock. Jordan cried out against Stiles’ lips, his own hand fisted in the back of Stiles’ shirt.

“I know what you are,” Stiles reminded him, still close enough that his lips brushed against Jordan’s. “How’s your control?” 

“Perfect,” Jordan gasped, “in most situations. This...I - I’ll be okay. I won’t hurt you. As long as…” He trailed off, lust-darkened eyes drifting over Stiles’ face.

“As long as what?” Stiles toyed with the waistband of Jordan’s shorts.

“I, uh, get pretty overheated when I jerk off. How hot do you like it?”

Stiles couldn’t help chuckling at that, a low rumble that made Jordan’s eyes widen. “Try me and find out.”

Jordan’s green eyes flashed orange for just a second, and before Stiles realized it was happening, he was flat on his back on the blanket with Jordan straddling his hips. Jordan pushed his own shorts and briefs down below his balls and gave his hard cock a few long pulls, his gaze fixed on Stiles’ face. Stiles whined and, not to be outdone, shoved his shorts and underwear down to mid-thigh. Jordan’s eyes immediately went to Stiles’ erection, and a growl escaped from deep in his chest, just loud enough to remind both of them that he shared his body with a shapeshifter.

“You should probably take this off.” Stiles tugged at the hem of Jordan’s shirt, and he stripped it off in one smooth movement before leaning down over Stiles, holding himself up with one arm. It should have been awkward, but before Stiles really had a chance to think about it, he was thoroughly distracted by Jordan licking his own palm. “Fuck, that’s hotter than it should be.” 

“Not yet,” Jordan breathed, wrapping his hand around both of their dicks, drawing a low moan out of Stiles. “But it will be soon.”

Stiles could only stare, mouth agape, as Jordan jacked them off. It felt amazing, a little too much friction at first, but god, it had been so long, and Stiles was leaking enough precome to slick the way pretty quickly. He shoved his shirt up to just below his chin to get it out of the way before things got inevitably messy.

Panting above him, Jordan squeezed his eyes shut. As soon as he did, Stiles started feeling the heat building everywhere - from the hand wrapped around them, from Jordan’s body above him, in the air that surrounded them. It was so much better than Stiles could have expected. Instead of making him too hot, the warmth enveloped him and spread through every muscle in his body. It was soothing and arousing at the same time, like nothing Stiles had felt before.

He slid a hand up into Jordan’s hair and tugged him down into a long, lusty kiss. When Jordan pulled away, he opened his eyes, and Stiles saw the beautiful natural green around his blown pupils instead of the orange he almost expected.

“Stiles,” Jordan moaned, his body going taut as he came unexpectedly, hot splashes hitting Stiles’ chest and stomach. His head hung down, and the arm that was holding all of his weight started to shake.

“Let me,” Stiles managed to choke out, moving his own hand down to wrap around their dicks so Jordan could hold himself up with both arms. As Stiles started to thrust into his own hand, Jordan leaned down low over Stiles’ chest and ran his tongue, hot and rough, over one of Stiles’ nipples. That was enough to push Stiles over the edge, and he came with a shout, his body going rigid under Jordan.

The warmth that still surrounded them lulled Stiles into a state of post-orgasmic bliss. He sank into it for several minutes, barely noticing when Jordan used his own discarded shirt to clean them off or when he shifted to lay down beside him, pulling Stiles’ shorts back up as far as he could.

“Stiles.” Jordan’s voice was a little rough, deeper than usual. Stiles groaned and shook his head. He still wasn’t sure what to make of what had just happened, but he knew he wanted to do it again, preferably more than once. “Stiles?”

“Hmm?” 

“We can’t go to sleep here.”

Stiles sighed and opened his eyes to find Jordan’s stupidly beautiful face just inches from his. “I know.” He brushed his lips over Jordan’s and grinned at him. “Fuck, that was awesome.”

Jordan’s eyes lit up and he smiled back, open and maybe a little relieved. “I’m glad you thought so.”

Stiles cocked an eyebrow at him. “You mean you didn’t? Not for nothing, buddy, but I think your dick would beg to differ.”

“Oh my god, Stiles.” Jordan laughed softly against Stiles’ shoulder. “I - I was a little worried.” The hint of doubt in his voice was enough to bring Stiles the rest of the way around.

“Hey, you don’t need to be.” He traced Jordan’s jaw with his index finger. “Seriously, that was amazing. And if it’s okay with you, I’d really like to do it again sometime, hopefully soon. And preferably indoors.”

Jordan swallowed audibly, and there was a shine to his eyes for just a moment before he blinked it away. “Yeah. That's more than okay with me.” He pushed himself up, then helped Stiles sit up beside him.

Stiles leaned against him, hand resting on Jordan’s thigh. “First, though, I think I’m gonna need some food, and maybe a nap.”

“My place?” Jordan asked, giving Stiles’ fingers a squeeze. “I can make us pancakes, or bacon and eggs. I’m good at breakfast.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” 

After a few minutes of just sitting in comfortable silence, Jordan stood and pulled Stiles up with him. They got their things together pretty quickly, and Stiles couldn’t help reeling Jordan in for another deep kiss before they parted.

As Stiles followed Jordan’s truck out of the preserve, so many thoughts tumbled around in his head. He was still having a hard time believing just how good it had felt to be with Jordan, how safe he felt in that warmth. He wasn’t particularly looking for a long-term relationship, though, and he didn’t know if Jordan was either. He tried not to get too caught up in thoughts of the future.

For the time being, he was content with the idea of hooking up with Jordan, being that person who knew what Jordan was and was still willing to be intimate with him, giving him the reassurance he’d need for whatever his future held.

If that future included a relationship with Stiles, then Stiles would be okay with that, and they'd figure out the details when they got there. If not, well...at least they’d enjoy themselves - and each other - in the meantime.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk Sterek (and now Starrish, apparently) with me on [tumblr](http://anodyneer.tumblr.com/)! <3


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